


Gathering Stones

by simplyprologue



Series: To All Things There is a Season [3]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Fluff, Mother's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:38:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyprologue/pseuds/simplyprologue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac's first Mother's Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gathering Stones

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Short, sweet, and rot your teeth saccharine, because I'm a sap. Sequel to "A Time to Keep" but it's not necessary to read that before this. Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!

She wakes up to the baby landing softly against her front, squealing happily while she tries to right herself against her mother. “G’morning,” Mac murmurs, blindly ducking her head to kiss the top of Charlotte’s, slowly forcing her languid limbs to uncurl.

A weight she assumes to be husband –- if it isn’t Will she has bigger problems, but she’s warm and comfortable and the internal clock she’s developed since Charlotte was born is leading her to believe it is far later than she’s slept since Christmas, so really, who cares –- dips onto the mattress, and a large hand rests itself on top of the dip in her waist. “She’s been fed.”

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” she mumbles. Will’s answer is to laugh, and Mac cradles Charlotte’s head (to everyone else she’s Charlie, or Little Charlie, even when they’re speaking to other people, but between the two of them she’s always Charlotte) and holds her to her front while shifting onto her back.

Their daughter babbles, soft sibilants and vowels, lipping a wet kiss on Mac’s chest before trying to sit up on Mac’s stomach. Finally opening her eyes, she folds her hands over Charlotte’s belly and rights her, smiling at her wispy blonde curls, blue eyes that are threatening to turn hazel… and a platinum pendant that hangs low past Charlotte’s belly button.

“And what is this?” she asks, laughing, fingering the chain on her way to tickling her daughter’s stomach, fingers turning in just a little bit tighter, steadying, when the five-month-old squeals and squirms.

Will leans back against the headboard. “It’s Mother’s Day. Charlotte bought you a present.”

Mother's Day. Which they celebrated, in March, when her parents came over for Mothering Sunday and while Will was still recovering from a concussion, and couldn't fly. But then again, Mac thinks, she did anticipate he’d go over the top. He’s been nothing short of ridiculously doting since Charlotte was born in January. Since she told him she was pregnant, really, but she thinks there’s some soft and squishy Nebraska Republican Square part of him -- which probably has more to do with his own skewed perceptions of parenthood from his childhood than being a Republican or from Nebraska -– that gets brought out when he finds her on the couch with the baby when he comes home after broadcast and the like. 

(MacKenzie may or may not use _News Night_ as a crutch to get Charlotte to go to sleep after her 7:30 feeding, since Will’s voice has always had the power to get their daughter to calm down.

Also it’s still their show, even if she only pops in a couple times a week and participates via Skype and email more often than not. But Jim knows she’s watching and more than once she’s texted him in the middle of a commercial break for him to yell at Will.)

A quick mental estimate counts at least ten diamonds on the front of the circular pendant alone, which if Mac had to guess, came from Tiffany’s.

And Will, but that goes without saying.

“Hmm…” she answers noncommittally, smiling widely at the baby who is trying to claw her way back to face level with her mother. “I’m sure.”

Will snorts, tracing a finger down Charlotte’s cheek to under her chin, catching her when she rolls off of Mac’s stomach, gently settling her between them. “It is Mother’s Day,” he says in avoidance, helping Charlotte in her very determined attempt to flip herself back over and climb back up on top of Mac. She succeeds -– for someone can’t string syllables together, Charlotte is quite capable, both her parents agree –- and Mac hooks her arm around her. “And our daughter _is_ American.”

“And it has nothing to do with her very wealthy American father.”

Will slides down a bit against the pillows, leaning over them a bit. “She likes diamonds. Shiny things -- like her mother, I might add -- not in your mouth, sweetheart.” He tugs Charlotte’s hand down from her mouth, kissing her forehead when she gives him the biggest look of betrayal that she can muster.

Which, considering she’s half Will, is pretty big.

“We also made waffles.”

Mac laughs. “I’m sure she was a very active participant.”

“Eh,” Will says, watching Mac bounce Charlotte up and down. “She’s pretty good company, when she’s not trying to hit you in the face with the mixing spoon. But we know who she learned that from–”

“Clearly she’s just expressing her disagreement with you in the only way she can when I’m not there to be the voice of reason,” Mac finishes, crinkling her eyes with a grin.

Will steals the baby, who shrieks with laughter when he jostles her against his chest.

Snorting indelicately, she rolls back onto her side. “You know, one day she’s going to be _too big_ for you to physically take from me when I make fun of you.”

Will pouts. “Don’t even.” Tucking his chin, he kisses the top of Charlotte’s head before consulting with her. “Never, right?”

The baby’s only response is an incoherent stream of babbling and a damp hand landing somewhere on Will’s chin, which MacKenzie they both immediately interpret as a sign of agreement with their own opinions.

“See?” they chorus.

Mac rolls her eyes, before reaching up to curl a finger into the neckline of Will’s shirt, tugging him down to bring her mouth to his, touching their lips briefly. “You’re ridiculous,” she whispers.

“So are you,” he whispers back, almost conspiratorially.

Snorting again, Mac worms her arms between Charlotte’s back and Will’s chest, squeezing her eyes shut when Charlotte bats her hands towards her face before she fumbles her arms around Mac’s neck, cooing softly.

“I win,” she whispers back louder, smirking. And then louder, “Now go get me waffles while I plot with the child.”

Smiling in a way that belies his purely-for-show exasperation, Will leans down to kiss them both again before sighing, aggrieved, and getting out of bed. Shuffling into a sitting position, Mac one-handedly reaches for the remote to turn on the morning shows so when he gets back they can continue with Charlotte’s education against for-entertainment news.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
